


Presidential Panic Room - Starring Padmé and Obi-Wan

by K_Popsicle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin Skywalker is a bad boyfriend, Cheating, F/M, Implied Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker - Freeform, Padmé gets a better man, Panic Room, Upgrading, presidential au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Popsicle/pseuds/K_Popsicle
Summary: President Padmé and Investigative Journalists Obi-Wan get locked in the Presidential Panic Room.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51
Collections: Party in the GFFA: Star Wars Flash Exchange 2020





	Presidential Panic Room - Starring Padmé and Obi-Wan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_needless_litany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/gifts).



Padmé’s not sure how they ended up here. One minute she’d been hosting a press conference on the lawns wondering why her secret lover was not present but his mentor was, and the next the secret service had flocked her, pushing her this way and that as they corralled her into the Presidential Palace and away from whatever threat had appeared. So, she knows how _she_ ended up here, but she’s not so sure how Obi-Wan got dragged along in the melee as well.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know why I’m here either.” Obi-Wan defends before she can ask. It’s possible, though she isn’t sure how, that the secret service had mistaken Obi-Wan for Anakin. True they were always together, but Anakin wore his dark hair loose and preferred darks whereas Obi-Wan had a hipster beard and the most perfectly coifed hair imaginable. Considering her yards of hair and the upkeep she puts into it she shouldn’t be so impressed by Obi-Wan’s hair, but she was. Anakin seemed to have a phobia of hair scissors and the sun.

“Panaka,” she directed to her most loyal guard, “what’s happening?”

Panaka grimaces, pressing his ear piece in tighter so he can hear whatever’s been shouted on the other end clearer, and there is shouting, she can hear the muffled noise of it from her seat in the small room. He raises a finger to quiet her, and if he were any other man she would argue the point, but Panaka only ever became that stern when the situation went pear-shaped.

Obi-Wan circles the room, inspecting state secrets like the sticky beak he is.

“Lieutenant Obi-Wan,” she interrupts him, and he turns in a smooth curve to face her and smile winningly. As if he wasn’t poking at papers he had no right to even be in the same room as.

“Please,” he flirts, “I haven’t been in the army for some time, ma’am.”

“And you’ve never been in my secret service, so please don’t call me ma’am.” She fires right back. His smile is more genuine, and she feels that little part of her flutter that always reacts when he pays her any real attention.

Obi-Wan’s attention isn’t like Anakin’s. Anakin is fevered ferocity, oaths of life and death and exuberant displays of affection. Obi-Wan’s attention was like a steady warmth building in your chest until it overwhelms the bearer. At least when it was genuine, his position in life had taught him to how to pay lip service to attention. The result was that she wasn’t yet used to the few times he turned that attention on her.

“Lady President,” Panaka interrupts her, and she breaks eye contact with Obi-Wan only now realising she was staring. Her cheeks feel flushed, and she has the sudden awareness of how inappropriate that feeling stirring in her is.

“What is it?” She asks with a sterner tone than intended. Panaka takes it in stride because he is a consummate professional.

“The visiting ladies have been evacuated from the Palace through the tunnels. They’ll reach the safe house in twenty minutes.”

A little part of her unclenches but the rest of her is on alert, “What’s the situation?”

“Yes, what is the situation, Captain Panaka?” Obi-Wan leans back against the wall, as comfortable as if it’s his lounge room not a bunker in the depths of the Presidential Palace.

“An insurgent force has moved on the Palace.” He says cleanly so there is no misinterpretation.

“An insurgent force?” She demands incredulous. They’ve been at peace for twenty years, there aren’t any existing threats, there hasn’t been a whisper of it through the reports she’s given daily by the security networks. “Who?” She demands, and Panaka shrugs.

“There was an attack at the city square, from the reports this appears to be a flow on from that. There was a credible threat and we are moving against it. I have to coordinate the men.” He motions to one of the side rooms.

“Of course.” She agrees, because the competence of her men is not to be questioned. “But I will need to be updated the moment you learn more.”

“Of course, Lady President.” Panaka bows, and then leaves her alone in a room with Obi-Wan Kenobi who has been listening intently the entire time.

“This is exciting.” He states in that mild way of his that makes it seem more like a game than life or death.

“Obi-Wan.” She reprimands, “People could be dying.”

“No doubt.” He agrees affably, “but we’re locked in the safest bunker your people could afford.” Then clearer, as if she doesn’t understand, “You are in no danger here, Padmé.” He assures.

“I’m not worried about my own safety!” She spits angrily. “I’m worried about my peoples!”

“Anakin would be.” Obi-Wan leans against the table with both hands, looking down the length of it to her.

“What?” She’s confused, because of course Anakin is worried about her people.

“Anakin would be worried about your safety, and nothing else.” Obi-Wan says it heavily like he knows a secret she would rather he didn’t know.

“Then he is a coward.” She snaps thoughtlessly, and she sees him taken back a step. She’s surprised him but she won’t take it back. “I was not elected to govern because I was concerned for my personal safety. But I _must_ protect myself with these walls so that I can make the decisions for my people that are necessary.”

“You surprise me.” He breathed softly, “I had wondered what Anakin saw in you, but now I think he didn’t even see all there is too you.” The compliment warms her and the warmth worries her. Anakin offered her a ring two weeks ago, a ring she could not take, and his ire had been frightening. She understood, of course, he never understood her need to do her duty above even his feelings. She’d sworn she would take the ring the day she handed her position to the next elected official, but even that had not quelled his mood. Perhaps that is why he didn’t attend the press conference today, she hasn’t seen him for some days but she refuses to apologise for parts of her he always knew she had.

“Men often overlook the depths of women for their preferred surface veneer. You are not the first and you will sadly not be the last.” She clips out, in no mood to deal with his preconceptions. She goes to check on Panaka, simply to use the energy and anger that’s built in her frame, but he catches her a step from the door and turns her around in the curve of his arms.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She demands though the core of her has ignites, her heart jackrabbit fast as she stares up into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s focused gaze.

“Let him do his job.” He says with a rumble in his voice she’s never heard, not once in their entire interactions. But then, maybe she’s never spoken to him without Anakin at his side. She thinks maybe she hasn’t.

“Do not tell me what to do.” She orders back at him, and his arms and pulling her in closer to him, pressing her against him, and she’s arguing with him but she hasn’t put up the smallest resistance. As she realises this she wonders if she wants to and when her hips and belly are flush with his through her thick skirts, and his face is so close she can see the freckle on his cheek and the crow’s feet at his eyes that she’d never noticed before, she knows she doesn’t want to.

“What if I show you?” He asks, his voice deeper still, and he’s touches could still be innocent, two hands on the curve of her back holding her close, but nothing untoward. Nothing they couldn’t pretend never happened.

“You have to know-” She hesitates still although every part of her is yearning to say yes.

“About Anakin? Of course.” He smiles secret and close, “But I thought you loved him, I thought he loved you.”

“I do.” She says weakly.

“Then why are you letting me do this?” he asks softly, and if she weren’t so close -it they weren’t so close- she would never have heard him. But they are, and she does, and she has no answer to give and he knows it. “Let me kiss you.” He begs, “Let me show you how it should feel to be loved.”

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him first. Lost for words, lost for promises, because for one moment she wants to know this, him, and have his every attention.


End file.
